


Ineligible

by Violsva



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, First Kiss, M/M, Mentions of Infertility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16430873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/pseuds/Violsva
Summary: Clint—His Royal Highness Prince Clinton, whatever—finds an old friend.June 2019:This is the original version of a scene which now appears inTinsel Show; if you’ve read that there’s no need to read this.





	Ineligible

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Winterhawk & Kisses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880800) by [Nny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nny/pseuds/Nny). 



> So this is totally not what I should be writing right now.
> 
> Inspired by [this ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/36645489) from [Winterhawk Kisses](https://winterhawkkisses.tumblr.com); read that first.
> 
> Also repeating the warning from the tags: harsh discussions of infertility in a dynastic context. Characters and the wider society depicted do not represent the author's views on etc.

This is definitely not where Clint’s supposed to be.

But he saw the red hair peeking out from the serving maid’s cap and—it’s been a while. It’s been _months_ , not just since he saw Natasha but since he saw _anyone_ from before, and she was the best part of it.

Not that that’s saying all that much. It’s not that the circus was great, or that he wants to go back. It’s just—

He’s here, now. Here in a dark alcove off a servants’ corridor with Nat leaning against a cart full of dirty dishes in front of him.

“Just checking to see if you were okay, ястребка,” she says, and he can’t help the rueful smile.

“I’m better than I’ve ever been,” he says, and she sighs. “At least I’ll never go hungry again.”

“I know, ястребка. I know what it’s like.” She glances in the direction of the Great Hall. “Don’t marry that one. She beats her servants.”

Clint winces. “Thanks.” He rubs his eyes. “How’m I supposed to tell? I get no time alone with these girls, they’re all basically onstage playing to the punters the whole time, with me as the flat in the front row. Except for the ones who can’t stand me.” An idea comes to him. “Nat,” he says, desperately hopeful. “Nat, _you_ could—”

“No, Clint.”

“I know I’m no prize, even with all of this. And they’d be pretty pissed off with me, with both of us, when they found out, but if we managed a legal marriage quickly we could pull it off. And at least you’d never go hungry again either. And you’d be good at it, at all this political shit, better than me. And Nat, I’m so—”

“No, Clint. I’m barren. I’m no use to you.”

Clint stops with his mouth still open, then recovers. “That doesn’t mean—you’re still amazing, Natasha—”

“I know that. But that’s not why you need to marry. Succession wars are ugly, Clint, trust me. That’s why you’re here in the first place—because anything is better than two—or three, or five—nobles fighting over a crown and slaughtering their people in the process. You can’t marry me.”

“Oh.”

Natasha wraps her hands around the handle of her cart.

“Wait,” Clint says. “Wait, okay, you’re right and I won’t ask again, but—can you stay? For as long as you can, just—” He can’t say it now. _I’m lonely._ He can’t.

Natasha smiles, a little, and oh thank gods he doesn’t need to say it. “I’ll stay.”

“Thanks.”

“But right now I need to get these to the scullery.”

“Right. See you around.”

She pushes the cart away and Clint slumps against the wall. At least now he has someone here, someone other than—

“So how do you know Natasha?”

“ _Fucking gods_ ,” Clint hisses, only a lifetime backstage keeping his voice below a yelp. It’s Bucky, of _course_ it’s Bucky, a dark shape separating from the shadows of the barely-lit hallway. “Holy fucking shit.”

He doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise. Bucky always knows where he is, follows him to rooftops and paces him on the ground as he climbs through trees. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he’d find him and follow him into the servants’ corridors.

“How do you know the Black Widow, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that,” Clint says automatically, not that it’s worked yet. “Wait, how do _you_ know her?”

A little, tempting, quirk of Bucky’s mouth. “I asked first.”

“She had a sideshow as a cover, once. And then—” He doesn’t actually know how much they know about the details of his past. Sometimes it feels like Coulson and Fury know everything, all of the dark and dubious and outright criminal parts; sometimes it feels like no one knows and no one gives a shit either. “When I was away from the circus for a while she helped me out. She doesn’t—I’m pretty sure she doesn’t, you know.” Kill people. “Anymore. How do you know her?”

Bucky’s face is blank. “I wasn’t always in the Palace Guard.”

“ _You_ weren’t hanging out in the ‘criminal underworld,’” Clint says, quoting Fury, hoping way more than he should that he’s wrong, and actually Bucky _was_ , somehow.

“You’d be surprised,” Bucky says, expression, maybe humour, back in his eyes. “But no, actually. I met her when I was a soldier. She got me out of a Ruthene prison. I’m not gonna chew you out ’cause you happen to know the assassin who saved my life.” He shrugs, more uncomfortable than Clint’s even seen him. “Anyway. It’s good you have someone familiar here. And, uh. Kings can have mistresses, y’know, it’s pretty usual—”

“Aw, _no_ ,” Clint says, crossing to him. “No, it’s not like that.” And wow, this is not a wide hallway and he’s closer to Bucky than he thought. “It’s definitely not like that.”

Bucky’s eyes have widened, and his back’s already against the wall. And he’s not looking at Clint’s eyes, he’s looking at his mouth, and his own mouth is soundlessly shaping a word Clint will always be able to lip read, and it definitely isn’t ‘Highness.’ And this is absolutely one of Clint’s many terrible ideas but—

Bucky’s lips are soft, and he gasps in a quiet breath against Clint’s mouth, and once Clint’s committed he reaches up to cushion Bucky’s head from the stone, pushes in closer, feels a hand land on his hip, leans in and licks at Bucky’s opening mouth because even if Bucky _is_ welcoming this, now, even if he wants this too, that’s no guarantee of anything more than this one kiss, and he wants to make the most of it that he can.

**Author's Note:**

> Not promising anything because seriously, not what I should be working on, but this is trying to develop a plot on me.
> 
> Do tell me if I've screwed up the Russian.


End file.
